I Started Suspecting My Wife
I started suspecting my wife.
In the lingering haze that felt even more disorienting than a brutal hangover, morning broke. The clatter of dishes from the kitchen pulled me awake. When I stepped into the living room, Sujung was preparing breakfast with her usual neat and tidy appearance. Her back view was flawless, not a single strand of hair out of place. She looked so composed that it was hard to believe she was the same woman who had blushed furiously in the car last night while spilling everything about my brother's couple.
"You're up? Go wash up quickly. I made some hangover soup."
That face smiling gently at me. Her attitude suggested she'd completely forgotten about the mistake I'd made while drunk last night or the embarrassing conversation she'd brought up herself. No, it was so perfectly identical to her usual self that it felt like she'd cast a spell on herself whispering, 'That never happened.'
In the end, I couldn't utter a single word and headed off to work. But even sitting at my desk at the company, my mind was consumed entirely by thoughts of where Sujung might have come. Over the complicated charts floating on my monitor, the sticky afterimages from last night kept overlapping.
Just where in the conversation did she get wet?
The first few years after we got married had been somewhat passionate. Sujung would respond eventually if I put in the effort to caress her. But at some point, she grew as cold as ice. The moment my hand touched her body, she'd make an annoyed face and push me away, saying, "That's enough, I don't really feel anything. Just hurry up." Those words shattered my pride as a man, and I lost interest too. Before I knew it, it had already been over two years since we'd been intimate as a couple.
So why had that same wife reacted so strongly to just a few of my brother's crude and dirty jokes? The thoughts chained together endlessly.
Could it be... because of those explicit technique stories he supposedly does to my sister-in-law?
The pressure tightening below my desk made me yank my tie loose roughly.
My brother must have gone into filthy detail inside that cramped tent last night about how he touched my sister-in-law's body, which spots made her lose control. I could picture him mocking me with a smirk, describing all those countless attempts I'd given up on after being hurt by her saying she "didn't feel anything," as if he knew the right answers.
Had Sujung, who had closed her heart to my devoted efforts as her husband claiming it did "nothing" for her, mentally traced those unfamiliar and outrageous techniques my brother described? Had her body reacted first as she imagined those rough stimulations I'd never dared try, hearing them in his voice?
But more than anything, the thought that was driving me insane was something else.
What if... the fact that her husband was right there watching turned her on?
The fact that I was sleeping right beside her. The shameful situation of being defenselessly exposed to a stranger's filthy words while her only shield—her husband—could do nothing. Even though it was so embarrassing and terrifying she felt like she might die, what if that very emotion had exploded and forcibly pried open the door to her that I hadn't been able to unlock despite years of effort...?
My heart pounded like it would burst. Imagining the scene of Sujung squeezing her eyes shut in panic yet focusing even more on my brother's voice every time she heard my snoring, twisting her thighs together, made my whole body tremble.
Sujung, just what kind of woman are you that gets off on those points?
Emotions I couldn't tell were anger or arousal dominated my mind. I didn't even hear my colleagues calling me to go eat lunch. Recalling Sujung working normally while pretending to be the prim and proper wife, the fact that it wasn't my "gentleness" but my brother's "vulgar words" that had broken her sent shivers through my entire body once more.
I took a ragged breath and stared out the window. Even the air conditioner couldn't cool the damp, sticky questions boiling inside me. I was certain now. Until I confirmed the answer to this question, I could never go back to being the husband I used to be.
Even on the subway the entire ride home from work, my head was filled with nothing but those thoughts.
Which of my brother's words had made Sujung crumble? Or had she surrendered her body to the dirty techniques he was describing? Standing in front of the apartment door, the sound of the electronic lock—which would normally have been nothing special—rang out unusually loud today.
"Oppa, you're home? You're a bit late today."
When I opened the door, Sujung greeted me from the living room, looking as neat as she had that morning. The savory smell of doenjang jjigae filled the house, along with the soft glow of the lights. Everything was so peaceful and ordinary that my daytime fantasies felt like a novel I'd made up in my own madness.
"Uh... work was pretty busy." I set my bag down and glanced at Sujung discreetly. She was wearing a comfortable cotton t-shirt and shorts for around the house. But in my eyes, the sticky sensation from last night kept overlapping over the fabric.
Even while sitting across from each other at the dinner table eating, I observed Sujung's expression. She chattered away without any sign of disturbance about what had happened at her company that day. Trivial stories about what the manager had done or how the assistant manager had made a mistake. That perfect primness only twisted my insides more.
I stood up and took out the wine I'd put in the fridge.
"We had a good trip yesterday, so how about we have a drink with dinner for once?"
At my suggestion, Sujung widened her eyes in surprise. It was because I usually didn't drink on weekday evenings.
"Wine out of nowhere? You have to go to work tomorrow."
"No, it's just that we went on a trip but I feel like I didn't really enjoy it properly, passing out so early. I'm the only one feeling regretful. Let's just have one glass."
At my words, Sujung gave a small, slightly apologetic smile and took the glass, saying, "Well, you did fall asleep really quickly yesterday, oppa." As the wine went down her throat in one sip, then another, a very faint flush of intoxication began to appear in her usually calm eyes.
I set my bag down and glanced at Sujung again. She was in her comfortable cotton t-shirt and shorts. But in my eyes, the sticky sensation from last night kept overlapping over the fabric.
"Hey, Sujung."
At my call, Sujung looked at me with the wine glass still at her lips.
"Yeah? What is it?"
"About what we talked about in the car yesterday. That story about my brother's couple."
For a moment, Sujung's shoulders visibly flinched as she was drinking the wine. She quickly set the glass down and turned her gaze to the stew bowl. It was clear she was now bitterly regretting having made that confession while sober, desperately trying to change the subject.
"Ah... that story? I don't know why I said something like that yesterday. It's too embarrassing, so just forget about it, oppa. My brother's couple are a bit strange people, aren't they?"
"No, I'm just curious. You're not the type to just sit there quietly after hearing something like that. Those... strange caresses he supposedly does to my sister-in-law. Didn't it feel bad hearing about them?"
I deliberately emphasized the word "caresses." Sujung downed the remaining wine in her glass in one gulp. Over the silent dinner table, it felt like I could hear my own heartbeat.
"Of course it felt bad. But... you were snoring away right next to me, oppa. If I had gotten all serious and gotten angry there, it would have ruined the whole atmosphere. So I just listened quietly."
"You were just angry? Or... did it feel a bit intriguing too?"
At my blatant question, Sujung lifted her head and looked straight at me. Her cheeks were flushed a soft red—whether from the wine or from shame, I couldn't tell.
"Oppa, stop it. Why do you keep bringing up such dirty talk while we're eating?"
Sujung set her spoon down as if angry, but I saw it. Beneath the table, her two thighs were pressed tightly together, trembling ever so slightly as they squeezed against each other.
She's lying.
Sujung was wet. That was an undeniable fact. But why? Was it simply because of those vulgar jokes? Or... had something happened during that moment when I had fallen asleep, or when she had gone to the bathroom with my brother, that had made my wife wet...?
All sorts of filthy imaginations tore through my mind. The reason clashing with the instinct surging up at the sight of her trembling thighs before my eyes was driving me crazy. I should have been angry, but my body, which wanted to dig deeper into that "secret," was already burning hot.
"Alright. I was just curious, that's all. Let's finish the drinks."
I casually refilled the glasses again. But in my head, I had already rebuilt and torn down the tent from last night thousands of times over. It seemed I wouldn't be able to stop until I confirmed with my own eyes the real reason behind that lewd instinct that Sujung was trying so hard to hide behind her prim facade.
That night, a heavy, damp tension began to fill our married bedroom for the first time in two years. Lying in the darkness with my eyes open, I poured endless suspicion and arousal onto the back of my wife as she tossed and turned beside me. The deeper the suspicion and arousal grew, the more the sticky, hot sensation of my wife's fluids that had flowed over my fingertips in the dark tent last night burned my mind white. The abnormal fluid that the mask of the prim wife had helplessly shed as it was brutally trampled by a stranger's vulgar voice. My mind grew dizzy with the shameless desire to feel that squelching, burning excitement fill my palm once more.